


Starring Role

by Akaiba



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Casual Sex, Denial, Dubious Consent, Gentle Sex, Heartbreaking, Heavy Angst, M/M, Pining, Rough Sex, Unhappy Ending, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Love, fuck buddies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6196267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akaiba/pseuds/Akaiba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Casual sex turns dangerous as Anders develops feelings he cannot rid himself of. He knows how it will end but Anders can't say no when he wants so very much.</p><p>Throwback song fic style for Starring Role by Marina and the Diamonds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starring Role

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to DashingApostate for reccing me the song that helped me to finish this wip up.

_ All you give me is a heartbeat _

_ I've turned into a statue _

_ And it makes me feel depressed _

_ 'Cause the only time you open up is when we get undressed _

 

\----

 

It didn't happen often. Anders liked to think he wouldn't allow it if it did. He had other things he had to tend to; a clinic to run, a manifesto to write… so many other things he should be doing than anything so ill-advised.

 

It was a control he lied to himself about, an assurance that he had any influence on what happened.

 

It didn't stop it from happening, however.

 

The first time had been little more than adrenaline, rage and the roughest handjob of Anders’ life. Fenris had little to no experience and even less interest in being shown anything other than his own release. It had suited them fine. Fenris was rough so Anders was rough in return.

 

And after they pretended like it had never happened. But Anders couldn’t stop himself noticing the elf. Not like he could ignore Fenris, he wasn’t exactly someone unremarkable, but watching how his mouth quirked at Varric’s sarcasm or Isabela’s jokes was not something Anders wanted to notice. Or how his rapier wit sometimes passed over even Hawke’s head, sharp and deadpan and Anders would laugh if it didn’t leave him stunned. 

 

Noticing how Fenris favoured apples with a soft satisfied noise that Anders had to strain to hear did nothing but make their rare encounters all the worse. So Anders buried the tiny observations and the foolish feelings he wanted to stifle, buried them down deep where he couldn’t feel them any more. He let Fenris pretend as though Anders didn’t know the taste of his skin until it was a distant, sullied memory and it suited them fine.

 

Until it happened again. 

 

That time had not been a rough handjob.

 

Anders had wondered if Fenris had been using his newfound literacy to research in dirty books. Fenris had sharply disabused him of the notion.

 

Isabela. Of course. It made sense, it retrospect. Fenris was not keen to form attachment to her like that and Isabela seemed as allergic to the notion as Anders himself had once pretended to be. Everyone saw the puppy eyes Fenris cast to Hawke, but it clearly didn’t mean Fenris was waiting around for the woman to notice him. Anders wasn’t sure whether he fell into the category of ‘casual sex partner’ or ‘convenient fuck’- which only differed in the amount of respect held for them- but he was certain that he, like Isabela, would be dropped when Hawke came around. Because she would. Who wouldn’t? With Fenris’ ridiculous voice and intense eyes, his humour and his- that train of thought was not helping.

 

What did it matter to Anders where the elf stuck his cock when it wasn't being stuck in him? It certainly benefitted him in the end, though one look at Isabela’s bared skin so free of scratches and bites assured Anders the elf wasn't nearly as rough with  _ her _ .

 

But then… she wasn't a mage.

 

She wasn't filth. That was how Fenris hissed the word ‘mage’. That was the intent behind the hands on his skin. This wasn’t love, this was convenience. Fenris was exploring his newfound utter freedom and it came with pleasure- pleasure the elf took with both hands and, well, Anders had not said no. Anders would be lying if he even tried to claim he wasn’t wholly willing from the beginning, but his stance had shifted from simply mutually benefiting to something else. So subtlely he had almost not noticed it happening, collecting these tiny flutters in his chest that he crushed with the reminder Fenris would sooner see him dragged to the Gallows than feel the same in return. 

 

They still argued fiercely and Anders knew they would never agree on anything, and he knew emphatically that Fenris barely tolerated him for Hawke’s sake. Anders felt similarly when the elf opened his mouth to spit hate about mages and magic and yet he simply couldn’t explain why he never said ‘no’. Even Anders was not so foolish to see how this would end, better to stop it right away and save himself this madness. 

 

But Fenris would fix him with a look and Anders knew there would be a sharp knock at his door late that night, yet he never turned Fenris away. He was always weak for pretty eyes but this was… this was a mistake.

 

It kept happening, though. Not often. But it did. 

 

Often enough that Anders knew he was losing his internal battle to remain as detached as Fenris was. Come morning Fenris’ eyes would be gazing adoringly at Hawke’s back and Anders would be nursing an idiotic hurt as though his heart expected it to somehow turn out differently.

 

It had happened again.

 

This time there had been no lead up and Anders had been caught unawares when he answered his door. But then, Isabela was away with Hawke, Varric and Merrill so perhaps it had been convenience once more. 

 

Anders pressed at the bruises around his wrists while Fenris picked up his clothing, not looking up as he heard Fenris still; no doubt dressed and ready to take his leave. He never spent the night and Anders was never taken to the elf’s mansion. Their arrangement had fallen into it’s misshapen place and Anders couldn’t bring himself to question it. The idea of losing this… it made Anders sick to his stomach to think of and he knew what it meant to him even as he shoved it down deep. It didn’t matter, not when he knew how much it  _ didn’t _ matter to Fenris. Yet, sometimes, Fenris would get the oddest look in his eyes. Like he wanted to say or do something he was not sure was wise. 

 

Fenris was probably realising what he had done, again, with a mage. The guilt and disgust of Anders’ touch must be such a difficult burden to bear, Anders thought bitterly. His finger pressed hard over the print of purple Fenris had left and the pain felt grounding. It was sharp at the back of his throat, sour and sick. It pricked at his chest and he swallowed it down as he heard Fenris inhale to speak.

 

“You don't have to say anything.” Anders offered, a self-hurting kindness to spare Fenris. Maybe to spare himself. Maker knows what might come out of Fenris’ mouth if he found the words to say it but Anders would not expect it to be kind and he hurt enough without Fenris making it worse.

 

“I need to.” The elf's jaw ticked like whatever he was wrestling with was huge and unpleasant, leaving no doubt in Anders’ mind it concerned him.

 

Anders sighed as he wrapped his fingers around the bruise on his wrist and squeezed. The pain made Justice flutter in confused outrage but Anders assured him he was fine. The pain helped him focus, to not be swept under by the self-loathing he had for sinking so low as to bed a man who hated him. 

 

“I don't want to hear it.” Sharp and antagonistic. Nothing worked quite so well as Anders’ mouth for throwing Fenris off.

 

Fenris grunted, not rising to it. “Then I must inconvenience you. I think I have done something to hurt you.” By his tone alone, Anders would have heard nothing but the accusation that Anders pain was Anders’ own fault, but Fenris fidgeted uncomfortably and it sounded more like shame. Shame for hurting a mage? Anders could scarce believe it.

 

Anders lifted his hand. “These?” He shrugged as he looked at the bruises. “It always happens when we sleep together.” He answered vaguely. It was true enough but Anders was curious why it was bothering Fenris suddenly.

 

Gauntleted fingers twitched and clenched, the way Fenris chewed through words before voicing them was a visible struggle Anders watched cautiously. “I… I was too rough the first time we… lay together.” Fenris frowned and he looked so conflicted. It pulled at Anders heart in a way he refused to let sway him. “I believed that you… liked that.”

 

“And now you don’t?”

 

Fenris ground his teeth and his hands tightened. “You are deflecting, mage. Just answer the question.” 

 

If there was one thing that Anders could have over Isabela, and even Hawke, it was that neither of them could get under Fenris’ skin like he could. “I have yet to hear a question.” He bit back just as hard, bitterness leaking into his tone that he wished he could have held back. He was aiming for aloof and disinterested, not jilted lover. He dropped his gaze to his wrist once more and glared, angry with himself but more so Fenris.

 

“Fasta vass!” Fenris was seething now, all his attempts to broach civil conversation cast aside as he was once again angry at the mage when he didn’t look like he wanted to be. Fenris did not try to ask properly, the slamming door of Anders’ clinic telling of his departure without needing Anders to look up and see it. 

 

The sound made Anders flinch and as he shifted he felt the chill of the room on his sweat dampened skin, so sharply clammy and cold in the wake of being alone. He never felt quite as low and used until Fenris left. His cum still dripping down Anders’ thighs, their breath barely caught, the adrenaline hardly faded for Anders to really feel the bruises and bites. It was easier when he pushed Fenris away. The illusion of control settled his shaking breathing and let him tell himself he curled into his bed because he was tired. Tucking his feet up he was just cold, just tired and cold and…

 

Anders would say no next time.

 

\----

 

_ You don't love me, big fucking deal _

_ I'll never tell you how I feel _

_ You don't love me, not a big deal _

_ I'll never tell you how I feel _

\----

 

Anders did not say no next time. 

 

But next time it was different.

 

Fenris’ mouth against his was hot and angry, Anders could feel it in every breath and the hands on his shoulders crushing him against the door of his clinic. 

 

“Fenris, wai-” Anders pulled back to try to speak but Fenris snarled and seized his mouth again. Fenris rarely wanted to talk when they fucked but after how the day had gone Anders wasn’t sure this would end well for either of them.

 

The venom with which Fenris had spat his hateful words about mages still rang in Anders ears, still stung him deeper than he could admit. He hadn’t even realised Fenris had been in the clinic until he was shoved against it’s closed door once inside. Why would he have expected him? Fenris had looked straight at him as he spoke.

 

_ “What has magic touched that it doesn’t spoil?” _

 

Anders’ heart clenched and he swallowed hard as he pulled away. Fenris already had his jacked off, how did he always manage that? “Fenris, please, just-”

 

“Do you want me to stop?”

 

Anders’ throat clicked as his breath caught. It hadn’t occurred to him to say no. He had ached for Fenris all day. He felt raw and open from seeing so much into Fenris’ past, he had wanted nothing more than to pull Fenris closer to him from the moment it became clear Hadriana had come to take Fenris. He had wanted to soothe the building terror that had been so clear and even when Fenris had lashed out, Anders had understood to a point. Until the point it was thrown at him. All mages were villains, except for Hawke, and with Hadriana gutted at Fenris’ feet and Fenris still so angry Anders had seen the look turn on him. Heard the words hurled at him. Of course magic never spoiled Hawke, but Anders… why had Fenris even come to him?

 

Yet still, he didn’t stop it.

 

“N-no, but-”

 

“Then do not speak.” Fenris turned Anders around roughly, shoving him against the door and the hard edges of Fenris’ armour with no place to go but submit to Fenris.

 

Anders’ heart was hammering in his chest as the pointed tips of Fenris’ gauntlets tore into the hem of his trousers. They caught on his skin and scratched him as Fenris dragged the fabric down and he was bared without ceremony or comment. Suddenly his pants were by his knees, tangled above his boots, as Fenris growled against his neck and there was no illusion to where this was going. As if there was at all. But they had never done it like this, not angry and hurting and so full of pain and hate. 

 

“Stay there.” 

 

His fingers dug into the door and Anders warred with himself to speak up or not as Fenris stepped away. He was hardly the voice of a well adjusted person but he knew running and he knew hate and he knew this would be a rough, unpleasant fuck against a door that would just leave both of them worse off. He couldn’t help but wonder if Isabela would have been who Fenris would have run to if she had been here. If she hadn’t left them all and never come back.

 

“Fenris…” Anders sighed, even knowing Fenris would not listen- could not, even. He was in no place to hear platitudes or comfort, not from a mage. 

 

With a flash of burning hot lyrium that had Anders arching back against him Fenris was pressed to him again. “Must I gag you, mage?”

 

“I know you don’t want to talk, but-”

 

“Then leave it, mage.” There was the unmistakeable clank of those damnable gauntlets hitting the floor and then Fenris fingers were suddenly  _ in him _ . A cold brush of salve between his cheeks his only warning and then Anders was choking on the burn of being pushed open. 

 

Fenris was all Anders could claim in the realm of regular action and it was not at all regular. Certainly not regular enough for as rough as Fenris was aiming for and Anders grit his teeth on the insistent press of Fenris’ fingers as they pushed and twisted into him. He struggled to widen his stance as best he could, biting his lip and scrunching his eyes shut as the rough, cold treatment made him feel sick. He was perilously close to being thrown into memories he didn’t want to recall when Anders realised Fenris had stopped. 

 

He was still, fingers buried deep and head resting on Anders’ shoulder, and he was shaking. Anders winced as Fenris’ fingers slipped free but it let him slowly turn within Fenris’ grasp to tentatively look at the elf. 

 

A splash of wet hit Anders’ shirt and the mage’s eyes widened. Fenris was crying. 

 

He didn’t think before he crushed the armoured elf into a tight embrace. Soft shushing sounds fell from Anders lips as he cradled Fenris. Fenris did not embrace him or pull away, he stood rigidly with his head hung and shaking with tears as Anders held him. Anders’ trousers stayed around his knees, awkwardly unimportant for the moment as he dragged gentle fingers through Fenris’ hair. 

 

“Hey, hey, love. I'm here. Ssh, sh.” Anders was acting on instinct as he pressed soft,helpless kisses to Fenris’ brow. He didn't think on what he said and only felt his heart ache for Fenris all the more, things Anders had buried deep burning up and welling within his chest. 

 

They sank to the floor and Anders wound up in Fenris’ lap as the elf clung to him. All he could do was hold Fenris in turn and know that his comfort would not be enough, would not even soften the edges of the frustration and anger that gripped Fenris. It wasn't something unfamiliar to Anders, he'd reacted much the same after losing Karl, but how he had wished he had someone to hold him like this and let him not feel so alone.

 

“Easy, love, ssh.” Anders tipped up Fenris’ face gently as the shaking slowed. Fenris’ brow was pinched in bewilderment as Anders offered him a weak smile. “Hey…”

 

Fenris searched his face and pulled back. “You… you called me…”

 

Reality slammed into Anders with a wash of cold that had him tugging his shirt over his naked groin and looking away. It forced a strangled laugh from his throat. “Well… fuck.” He let go of Fenris as though their contact burned him, standing abruptly from the elf’s lap and hauling his trousers up. “Habit. Just forget it.” Fenris’ expression did not show an ounce of belief as he looked at Anders with open shock. “Look, you just gave me the roughest and shortest fingering of my life- like I am so damn toy for you to play with- and then you started crying, I think I can be allowed a few stupid slips, just forget it.” Fenris’ face contorted in anger at the mocking of his outburst. “There’s the Fenris I know.” Anders cooed sarcastically as he righted his clothing. “Now why don’t you fuck off out of my clinic, hm?” 

 

“I should never have come here.”

 

Anders wanted to wring Fenris’ pretty neck for how much that should not have hurt, but it did. “I’ll never understand why you do.”

 

Fenris rose from the floor and pushed past Anders to get to the door, snatching up his gauntlets from the ground as he stalked to the door. The door Anders had been shoved against before. It slammed with a resounding crash and Anders felt sick to his stomach again. He couldn’t slip like that again but what did it matter now? Fenris would likely never return and that was fine.

 

It was, he insisted to his aching chest. 

 

\----

 

_ Sometimes I ignore you, so I feel in control _

_ 'Cause really, I adore you, and I can't leave you alone _

 

\----

 

When he saw Fenris again it was a shock to see him not staring at Hawke like she had hung the stars. She was staring at him instead, and he looked away so shamefaced and hurt that Anders just looked between them in surprise. He hadn’t thought Fenris had the nerve, if Anders was honest with himself- something he hadn’t been of late. 

 

“What about Hawke?” Anders asked, lips moving against Fenris’ neck, because he couldn’t help himself. Because he had to piss Fenris off that little bit more to make the elf to forget himself, to make Fenris hold him tighter when he seemed to be trying to hold him gentler, to make Fenris bite when he had been trying to kiss. Anders didn’t want the caresses and the kisses, not when Fenris still left the same. 

 

Anders didn’t get an answer, he didn’t expect one. He wrestled the buckles of Fenris’ armour free and cast it aside with little care. Fenris retaliated by tearing into Anders’ coat, wrenching it down the mage’s arms and dropping it with far too much satisfaction as the shirt soon followed. The clawed tips of Fenris’ gauntlets rested on Anders’ chest next, dragging down as fine white lines of just enough pressure made Anders shudder and arch into Fenris. With a calculating look Fenris increased the pressure of his hand and Anders stilled. Pinpricks of pain had him tensing and pleasure fading fast. 

 

“I knew it.” Fenris breathed, not victory in his voice but instead acting as though Anders had deceived him. 

 

Anders blinked at him for a moment and then scoffed. “Took you long enough.” 

 

Irritation furrowed Fenris’ face as his hand twitch and Anders flinched again. The hand was gone in an instant as Fenris cast his gauntlets to the floor with a disgusted look. “Why would you not tell me?” He demanded.

 

Anders pushed at Fenris’ chest. “You don’t come to me for conversation. Why start now?” 

 

Fenris teeth met his mouth and for one moment the observation looked to be forgotten. Then, Fenris’ hand cupped the back of his head and did not tangle in his hair or pull him exactly how Fenris wanted him. It remained still and Fenris’ teeth were gone from biting into Anders’ lip, a gentle suck in their place as Fenris’ met the kiss with such gentleness that Anders pulled back sharply. 

  
“What are you doing?”

 

Fenris looked as confused as Anders was, but he seemed to be figuring it out whereas Anders was lost at the shift in attention. “What I want to.” Fenris answered eventually. It had all the makings of a selfish statement but the way Fenris drew him in for another kiss was anything but selfish. They hadn’t kissed at all when they first grabbed and pulled each other in the alley behind the Hanged Man, but as the encounters grew in number Anders had learned that the ‘little wolf’ had teeth enough to make Anders not miss it. 

 

This was nothing like those kisses. 

 

This was tender and made Anders want to sink into Fenris, to lay languid on the elf’s chest and kiss until their mouths grew too tender for anything more. A fissure of warmth and longing bloomed in Anders’ chest and he quashed it and made to pull back again with a noise of protest but Fenris was pushing him down to the cot and that was more familiar. 

 

As his trousers were pulled off Anders assumed the moment of Fenris’ madness had passed, there was usually barely enough thought spared to reach for salve to ease the way before Fenris would fuck him at this point, but even as Fenris pulled the pot to them he seemed unhurried. His mouth found Anders’ neck and again, there were no teeth. Soft lips brushed a barely there kiss to the dip below his bobbing throat and then firmer at the hollow of his collar, then again at the arch of the collarbone. This was dangerously close to foreplay and Anders screwed his eyes against the sensations. He had been a huge fan of foreplay, but not with Fenris. Not when it unsettled so many constants and made Anders’ foolish heart  _ hope _ . That was just cruel. 

 

“Fen-” He managed one bitten out syllable of a reprimand before Fenris was sliding a slickened palm up the length of Anders’ cock. Anders head tipped back and he whined as Fenris continued his lazy path of trailing kisses to Anders’ chest, rubbing a cheek against the fair coloured hair smattered over his skin. 

 

No, no, no, this was all wrong. Fenris was toying with him again, he’d found a new way to go about it but it was just a game to Fenris. The hatefully touted red sash on Fenris’ arm spoke volumes against the fleeting hope Anders was strangling in his heart, all against that searching gaze Fenris was studying him with. Of course Fenris was watching him raptly, watching the carefully constructed walls of so many years crumbling under his suddenly gentle touches. 

 

The hand on his cock circled his base loosely, stirring his cock to thicken in Fenris’ hand as the hand moved slowly up and down his length, firmer each stroke but so incremental that Anders turned his face into his pillow. “W-what are you…” Fenris moved his hand fractionally faster as his lips found one of Anders’ nipples. 

 

Anders bit his lip and felt himself rocking into Fenris’ hold. The elf did not hold him down or give in to Anders’ urging for him to hurry, moving his hand with Anders hips and swiping his tongue over the perked nipple in his mouth. Anders threw a hand over his eyes and grunted out something unflattering to Fenris. The elf remained unmoved as his thumb teased unfairly slowly around the crown of Anders’ cock, teasing the foreskin back and forth over the head until Anders was breathing heavy and twitching in his hand. 

 

The kisses over and around Anders’ nipple became heavier, Fenris opening his mouth to suck and graze his teeth just so around the edge, and Anders felt like he had to have been pulled into the fade somehow. This was not Fenris, this was not real. 

 

“Look at me.” 

 

Anders obeyed without thought and he saw that Fenris had tugged his leggings down enough to free his own cock, his shirt hitched up enough to see the swirls of lyrium that spiralled down to frame it. With burning eye contact Anders could not break he felt Fenris thrust his cock against Anders’ own. The mage dropped his gaze down as Fenris took them both in hand, 

now a much tighter grip with both their cocks sliding against each other. 

 

“Fenris…” Anders gasped, the elf occupying his mouth with Anders’ other nipple as Anders thrust into Fenris’ palm and against Fenris’ cock. Everything narrowed down to just ‘Fenris, Fenris, Fenris’ as Anders snarled his fingers into the back of the elf’s shirt and his blunt nails tried to tear into the fabric. 

 

He caught Fenris’ eyes again and the intense way the elf was scrutinising him had Anders lost. He could pretend he saw what he wanted in that gaze, pretend that Fenris was his that this was theirs. Pretend that this would end differently. 

 

Anders dropped a hand to their cocks to try and hurry Fenris’ movements but Fenris ignored him until Anders was simply clinging to Fenris’ hand and arching from the bed as he came. Still that hand did not stop, dragging every drop from Anders as Fenris sought his own release and took Anders along for the ride until he was whimpering and writhing as Fenris’ cum splashed over his belly in thick white ropes over Anders’ own spill. 

 

The mage lay there, shaking and wide eyed, as Fenris knelt back. There was a more satisfied expression on Fenris’ face than any Anders had previously been privy to and it was too much. Anders felt like he’d been flayed open, raw and vulnerably exposed on his bed with both their seed cooling on his belly. He felt weightless and adrift and before he could think, he spoke.

 

“I love you.” It spilled out between shuddering breaths and Anders felt the world drop away from under him. Fenris’ expression stuttered before closing off entirely, the surprise and withdrawal of being faced with something unexpected very much evident in how Fenris stilled. That butterfly fragile thread of hope fluttered and pulled taut as he watched as Fenris…

 

As Fenris stood from the bed and dressed in his armour again. Anders waited for Fenris to look back, pleaded and begged for it in his mind, anything for a sign that this had meant something to Fenris other than a petty victory over Anders’ laughable control. 

 

The door shut behind Fenris and Anders realised he was shaking, tears streaked down his face and shaking. What a mess Fenris might have seen had he looked back, Anders told himself, thank the Maker he hadn’t.

 

\----

 

_ Fed up with the fantasies that cover what is wrong _

_ Come on, baby, let's just get drunk, forget we don't get on _

 

\----

 

Isabela had taught Fenris well. Or Hawke. Or whatever part of Fenris found this a worthwhile use of his time. 

 

Anders kept hoping the memory of Fenris’ gently taking him apart would fade but every night he kept hoping and dreading that the warrior might come to his door once more. He would say no, of course, Anders told himself. He would say no this time and end this farce. He would.

 

Every day that passed with no Fenris at his door come nightfall was a blessing, Anders told the hurt in his heart. It let them forget this and sooth the pain he had earned from toying with things he knew not to tempt. He should have run the moment he realised that he was becoming too invested in something that was so one-sided, Anders was by no means an inexperienced man. Casual sex was all well and good as long as both parties were on the same page but he’d thought he could handle this- handle Fenris. What an idiotic notion! 

 

Justice urged him on and Anders complied, another lie that he had any control of himself or his thoughts. It comforted him all the same, duty and action filling the rended holes in his heart that he could not nurse. His days became blurs of patients, his nights filled with planning and writing and devising. He withdrew from Hawke’s merry band, began disappearing for days on his own and would tell no one where he had gone. He had an obligation to mages throughout Thedas and that had to take precedent. Though he wasn’t too sure why he had purchased new robes. Justice assured him that it was necessary, they were bigger than themselves. They had become an ideal.

 

“I do not like them,” Fenris offered after Varric’s observation of Anders’ new attire.

 

Anders sneered at him, “Fortunately for me, I don’t care.” Needles, Anders thought, that’s what it felt like. Thin stabs of pain to his chest that had him caught between buckling and giving in. Perhaps it was a blessing that Justice was taking more and more from him, if only so Anders did not have to feel this so often.

 

“Oh, let Anders be. He looks rather dashing, don’t you think?” Hawke drew closer and Anders gaze snapped to where her arm brushed Fenris’. 

 

Whatever Varric offered by way of reply was lost to Anders’ ears as he looked to Fenris’ face and saw the elf almost guiltily look away. 

 

Oh…

 

It slammed into Anders like a crushing weight of stone on his chest and the mad thread of hope he had nursed snapped.

 

He had known how this would end from the start, Anders told himself. He had no right to be surprised. 

 

It was better this way. 

 

There would be no one to miss him.

 

\----

 

_ I never sang for love, I never had a heart to mend _

_ Because before the start began, I always saw the end _

 

_ \---- _

**Author's Note:**

> ...Sorry.  <3
> 
> My tumblr: akaiba.tumblr.com


End file.
